


Been In This Storm

by dragon_temeraire



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia and Lydia have a quiet night in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been In This Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Femslash February and Teen Wolf bingo (“Lydia Martin” + “holding hands”). Set in the same timeline as "7-step plan" but you don't have to read it to understand this one.

“I think tonight went well,” Lydia says, sitting down on the bed. She’s already in her pajamas, while Malia is still changing into hers. It’s just a pair of comfy shorts and a tank top, because she’s always hot. She pauses a moment to smirk at Lydia’s wooly socks. 

“What makes you say that? All I saw was a little awkward flirting and some kind of salad war,” Malia says, flopping down next to Lydia.

“I can’t explain the salad thing,” she says, laughing. “I was talking about the flirting, though. Jordan’s been trying to get the nerve to ask Stiles out for ages.”

“What’s the hold-up?” Malia huffs. “It’s not like Stiles is intimidating. He’s a total dork.”

“Honey, nobody likes being rejected.” She pats Malia’s thigh. “And you’re one to talk, you were super awkward when you asked me out!” Malia makes an offended groan. “It was adorable, though.”

“Well, I didn’t actually expect you to say yes. Besides, you _are_ intimidating!”

“What? How so?”

“You’re smart _and_ beautiful. I had no idea what to say.”

“Is that why you asked me out for coffee?” Lydia asks, trying not to laugh. “You don’t even like coffee.”

“Give me a break,” Malia says, playfully nuzzling Lydia’s cheek. “I’d never asked anyone out before. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You managed to get your point across,” Lydia grins, trying to tickle her.

Malia darts away, laughing, then circles back to grab the hairbrush off the dresser. She sits down behind Lydia and begins gently pulling it through her long silky hair. It likes to coil itself into knots, and she works each one out carefully, running her fingers through each completed section. She takes her time, and listens as Lydia sings softly to herself. 

“We should do something tomorrow night,” she says, as Malia finishes brushing and begins to weave her hair into a loose braid. “I’ve got a lot of vacation days, so I’m taking a four-day weekend. If they need me, they can call me.” Lydia runs a development team at a medical research company in Beacon Heights. They absolutely love her there, and think she’s incredibly brilliant. Malia knows the feeling.

“That’s good,” Malia says, shaking out the braid and starting over again. “You could use a break. But I wouldn’t plan on doing much tomorrow, there’s a big thunderstorm rolling in. There’s going to be quite the downpour.” Malia’s years as a coyote have given her the ability to predict the weather with remarkable accuracy. Everyone takes her messages about storms very seriously.

“Oh, well. We can always stay in and watch a movie or something.”

“Sure,” Malia says. “As long as it’s not Footloose. Again.”

Lydia makes a point of turning around so Malia can see her raised eyebrows. “We watched Dirty Dancing last time at pack night, not Footloose.”

“Same thing,” Malia says.

“They’re really not. But you were too busy watching Scott and Kira’s salad-eating contest to notice,” she says, laughing.

“What can I say, it was more entertaining. So was listening Jordan and Stiles whisper to each other through the whole movie, honestly.”

“You probably heard more than you wanted to, then.”

“I did learn that Jordan is kind of a dork. Looks like him and Stiles will be a perfect pair.” Malia snickers, then leans closer. “But nothing incriminating. Or particularly interesting, really.”

“Speaking of,” Lydia says, “do you still call Stiles and tell him crazy sex stories about us?”

Malia rubs her cheek against Lydia’s neck, and kisses along her shoulder. “Of course. The best part is that he thinks it all actually happened.”

Lydia shivers. “Stop trying to distract me!” she says, even as she leans her head to allow better access. “How about this? You’ll be home from work earlier than me, so you can get whatever movies you want to watch this weekend.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Malia says, sliding her hands down to Lydia’s hips. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

*

 

“I should have heeded your warning,” Lydia says through the open front door. She’s standing on their covered porch, trying to squeeze the water out of her hair. The rain is slanting down mercilessly and her shoes are full of water. Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashes. “I was running late this morning and completely forgot my umbrella.”

“You should really keep a spare in your car.” Malia hops up from the couch and hands her the towel she had waiting. She peers out the doorway. “It’s only going to get worse. It’s going to storm all night, too.”

Lydia grabs the towel and vainly tries to sop some of the moisture out of her clothes. Giving up, she kicks off her shoes and pulls her shirt off, shaking her wet hair out of her face. 

Malia waggles her eyebrows. “Gonna give the neighbors a show?”

“We hardly have any neighbors,” she says, throwing the towel over her shoulder. “One of the benefits of living so close to the preserve.” Malia only moved in with her a month ago, but it already feels like forever. She hopes she’s not pushing things too fast by saying _we_ and _our_ so often. She clears her throat. “Did you even get to take any groups out today?”

“One, early this morning. After that it was raining too hard.” 

Malia works giving personalized tours of the Preserve. The most sought-after guide, she is known for her ability to find wild animals, particularly wolves and foxes, for her groups to observe and photograph. It’s almost uncanny, really. 

“Oh, too bad,” Lydia says. Malia loves to educate people on the value of nature and conservation. 

“Yeah. But it meant I had plenty of time to get some movies. I borrowed a bunch from Stiles.”

“Oh, no. Tell me he didn’t lend you all the Star Wars movies again?” 

“No, it was Star Trek this time,” Malia says, and laughs at Lydia’s betrayed expression. “Just kidding. He gave me these.” She hands her a stack of movies.

Lydia groans when she sees the first one. “Must Love Dogs? _Seriously?_ ” She heads up the stairs to the bedroom as she flips through the rest. “Some of these aren’t bad, though. I like Sherlock Holmes and Catch Me If You Can.” She grins at Malia, who’s followed her up. “Good job, babe.”

Malia shrugs. “Gotta give Stiles some credit, he picked a lot of them. I just helped.”

“I’m kind of surprised he had some regular movies hiding behind that epic geek collection he has. I figured we’d end up watching The Avengers again if he was choosing.”

“He said he’s trying to, uh, _diversify his interests_. You know, be more like a normal person.”

“Stiles will never be a normal person. I don’t know what we’d do if he suddenly turned into one.” She laughs. “Things would probably get boring.” She looks down at her slacks, which are dripping all over the carpet, and hands the movies back to Malia. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You want to put dinner in the oven?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get everything set up.”

By the time Lydia’s dried her hair and put on her comfiest pajamas, Malia has transformed the couch into a soft nest of pillows and blankets. With the sounds of the wind howling and rain tapping against the windows, it looks especially appealing. She resists the urge to do a running leap in the middle of the pillow pile, and instead continues to the kitchen.

“Mmm,” she says, “smells like dinner is almost ready.”

They grab plates and garlic bread, and lasagna once it’s finished baking. They start one of the movies as they eat, pausing when Malia cheerfully gets up for seconds. She really loves food.

Once they’re done, they set their dishes aside and snuggle up together under the blankets. Malia is particularly fond of being the big spoon, and Lydia loves being held, so it works out well.

She manages to put the storm out of her mind until several loud rumbles of thunder hit, the lightning a brilliant counterpoint. Startled, she grabs Malia’s hand tightly. She ducks her head. “It’s not that I’m afraid of thunderstorms,” she says quietly.

“I know,” Malia says, gently loosening her grip, then twining their fingers together. 

“I’m just afraid someone is going to get hurt.” She looks toward the window. “It’s a bad night to be out.”

What she doesn’t say is that it helps to have someone to hold onto, someone who cares about her. How it softens the feeling of impending doom she sometimes gets, and cuts the visions into bearable split-second moments. That it makes it easier to breathe. 

Lydia doesn’t scream when she sees someone’s violent death, not anymore. She just clenches her jaw and closes her eyes and drops her head so her hair hides her face. Sometimes she cries. 

Everyone at work has been told she has migraines, and they think nothing of it when she sometimes leaves early, tears streaking down her face. 

Malia begins softly stroking her hair. “I know you’re afraid,” she says. “I know you’re afraid to reach out to me sometimes, that you can’t lean on me. That you’ll be pushing things too fast.” She pulls Lydia closer. “I know it’s only been a few months. Maybe you’re not sure, but I am. I love you, okay?”

Lydia looks up then, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” She squeezes their still-joined hands. “I love you, too.”

Malia leans forward then, and kisses Lydia gently on the lips. When she pulls back she’s grinning, and Lydia can’t help but smile back.

Somehow, it feels like everything is going to be okay.


End file.
